This weekend was something of a mixed bag. Statistically speaking, next weekend is probably going to suck the big one. To wit:

• Mon Sep 01: "Bit of a fun-filled extravaganza over the past week or so..."
  
• Mon Sep 22: "That was a fine weekend, I have to say"
  
• Mon Sep 29: "Another decent weekend for the Roquefort Files...".
  
• Mon Oct 06: "...it seemed like a good idea at the time. Actually, it was".
  
• Mon Oct 13: "Another good weekend. Something is definitely going on". This is the point I get wise to inevitable doom.
  
• Mon Oct 20: "The weekend: good and bad". Uh oh.
  
• Mon Oct 27: "...a pretty decent weekend". Bucking the trend for a last gasp of happiness.
  
• Sun Nov 02: "I'm off to do some work". Ah. Working at the weekend.
  
• Mon Nov 10: "Summary: gig good; everything else standard issue". Uh oh x2.
  

If I was anal enough to plot this on a graph, I think it would show a) I'm in trouble next weekend; b) I'm incredibly sad.

So I won't.

Anyway, back to this weekend. On Friday, Jeff randomly bumped into Nina, a Dutch friend of ours that we're going to visit in Amsterdam next month, which is a bit of a coincidence. Josh was in a beer monster type of mood, so we recruited some of the usual suspects and went on a minor bender with Nina and her boyfriend.

I was woken up the next morning by a text message arriving on my phone from Kate, who'd just got her bike back from being repaired, and wanted to go for a ride somewhere. I scrambled out of bed, had a shower and met up with her on Leith Walk about 40 minutes later. (I'm still vaguely in shock that she doesn't burst out laughing every time she sets eyes on me.) We cycled down to Newhaven and had a couple of pints in a nicely cosy little pub and then a couple more in a pub near my work, and then I cycled home. Illegally, I suspect.

That night, the Mafia headed to a party (with a supposedly French vs. Greek theme - your guess is as good as mine), but I was still in the throes of one of those afternoon-drinking hangovers that you get if you don't just keep on drinking, so I wasn't quite on top form and I headed back fairly early.

Josh and I went to see The Matrix Revolutions on Sunday night. Hmm. I'm in two minds about it - it was certainly much better than Reloaded, but if you, say, use the rest of the cinematic oeuvre as a yardstick, it was really pretty awful. The sheer spectacle of some bits was incredible, but a paper-thin story didn't help matters. On the way home though, I saw possibly the funniest thing ever. There was a heap of full black rubbish bags on the pavement, with a note pinned to them reading:

"WHAT PART OF 'DON'T LEAVE BIN BAGS IN THE STAIRWELL' DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND, ASSHOLE?"

So not a total loss.